Leaves

• Georgina Godfrey, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2021

The leaves danced in the air, the wind nudging them forward. They trailed down the sidewalks, weaving through people and pedestrians, chasing each other. Like two children, running after one another, pushing the crowd apart, the people growling at them in frustration. Two children laughing and giggling, a cacophony of joyous noise.
The leaves danced through the crowd, the wind roared in their ears and they slowed, like teens taking a small stroll through the streets, hand in hand. But the wind picked up, and up and up and everything was faster, speeding by, but together they held tight.
The sun, once piercing started to fade, the crowds vanished, and it was just the two leaves, the wind pushing them forward, so slowly. They were like older people, creeping forward, but together, as they reached the end of the road, the light was dimmer, the day nearly complete.
The two danced together, starlight and soft wind fuelling them on, wind whispering music in their ears. Until it stopped. And the leaves slowly tumbled through the air, trying to clutch to the dying embers of the wind, and gently landing on the pavement, apart.